To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men; Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage, All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing: truths would be tales, Where now half tales be truths: her love to both Would, each to other and all loves to both, Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; For ’tis a studied, not a present thought, By duty ruminated.
To keep you in constant friendship, To make you brothers, and unite your hearts With a bond that can’t break, let Antony Take Octavia as his wife; her beauty deserves A husband as good as any man; Her virtue and her grace show What words can’t express. With this marriage, All the small jealousies that now seem so big, And all the big fears that seem dangerous, Would disappear: truths would become stories, And what’s now a half-truth would be fully true: her love for both Would connect everyone and all loves would follow her. Forgive what I’ve said; It’s a thought I’ve carefully considered, not just an impulse.
Agrippa · Act 2, Scene 2
Agrippa proposes a political marriage between Antony and Octavia to bind Caesar and Antony as brothers and end their rivalry. The speech lands because it frames marriage as a tool of state—a way to tie together two powerful men through a woman's virtue. It shows how the play treats even intimate bonds as instruments of power, and how women become the knots that hold empires together.